by Ingrid Thoft
Fina didn’t know if her brothers had chickened out or not yet had the opportunity, but she didn’t like being out on a limb by herself.
“And it’s not like your brother is thrilled to see you,” Carl added. “It’s no easy task convincing him to back off you.”
Fina shook her head. “Are you even listening to yourself? You have to get your son to stop harassing your daughter; you don’t see a problem with that?”
“The only problem is that two of my adult children keep acting like children.”
“What happened to the file I gave you and Rand last fall?” she asked, tapping her nails against the armrests. “I thought we agreed that the information would stay between us if Rand made himself scarce.”
“He did make himself scarce, but that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You still had to interfere.”
“His girlfriend had young children, Dad.” Fina had made a call to the woman on deck in Miami and warned her about Rand’s proclivities. That call had set the current situation in motion, but she’d had no choice. Standing by while a child was abused was not an option.
“Which is why it’s better that he come back. I can keep an eye on him here.”
Fina stared at her father. “I disagree.”
Carl reached into a drawer and tossed a file onto the desk. He nudged it toward her with his fingertip.
She opened it, scanned the contents, and put it back down on the desk. “What is this?” She glowered at him. “Tit for tat?”
Carl glanced at her before picking up his phone and fiddling with the screen. “I like to think of it as mutually assured destruction.”
She tapped the file. “That isn’t proof of anything.”
“It’s enough to get you a hearing in front of the state licensing board.”
“And I have enough to get you and Rand brought in front of the bar.”
Carl spread his arms wide. “And then we all lose.”
“Welcoming him back into the family is winning? How are you going to look Haley in the eye, bringing her abuser back to the dinner table?”
Carl dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned forward, his jaw clenched. “He will not touch her.”
“Damn right he won’t, but he shouldn’t be looking at her or speaking to her. He shouldn’t be anywhere near her.”
“That’s not realistic, Josefina. I don’t think you appreciate how complicated this situation is.”
Fina shook her head. “Oh please.”
“You have this fantasy that I can somehow get rid of your brother and there will be no fallout. No consequences for the rest of us.”
“Those consequences pale compared to the ones being visited on Haley now that Rand’s back.”
Carl stared at her. “You’re being naïve.”
“So are you, Dad. You’re underestimating the damage that Rand’s mere presence will unleash.”
Carl sat back. “You have another problem. Your mother is still very upset with you.”
Fina rested her forehead against her fingertips. The pulse in her temple was throbbing at a rapid pace. “Because I told her the truth that her son is a pedophile, which I might add, she doesn’t even believe, so why is she so upset? But, back to your plans to blackmail me.”
“I told you not to threaten me.”
Fina got up and walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. “What happens when the secret gets out and people learn that you protected a molester?”
Carl puffed up his chest. “You need to give your strategy some serious thought.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone, but do you really believe Haley was the first and the last? Maybe you can contain this within the family, Dad, but unless Rand can contain himself, it’s just a matter of time until this blows up.”
“Just focus on the case. Let me worry about your brother.”
“But you’re not worrying about him.”
He shook his head.
“Why do you insist on defending him?” she asked. “And don’t tell me it’s because he’s your kid.”
“That’s exactly the reason why.”
Fina shook her head. “I don’t buy it. You can’t be that blind or that forgiving.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, not until you’re a parent yourself.”
Fina exhaled through her nose, like a bull waiting to charge. In her experience, playing the “you’re not” card—be it you’re not a parent, gay, female, or any number of variations—was a means to short-circuit conversations, not deepen them.
“I’m not a parent, but I’m an aunt, and sometimes I feel like I’m the only one looking out for Haley.”
Carl shook his head and started dialing.
Fina wasn’t surprised that appealing to Carl’s better nature had failed, but her brothers were right: They’d never neutralize Rand if Carl was in his corner.
Were the paternal bonds really that unbreakable, or was there a way to make Carl see Rand for who he was?
• • •
Fina arrived early at Toscano, where she was meeting Cristian, so she ordered a beer and ruminated about her new investigation. She was filled with anticipation to get started and track down Lindsay Kaufman, but she also felt a sense of dread. Digging into Rand’s past was not going to be pretty.
Fina had already downed half of her beer when Cristian came through the door.
“You started without me?” he asked.
“I was thinking about family stuff. I needed to take the edge off.”
“Ah.” He ordered a beer, and they both studied the menu. When the waiter returned with his drink, Fina started to order, but Cristian stilled her with his hand. “Actually, we’d like a few minutes,” he told the young man.
“Is that okay?” he asked Fina when they were alone.
“Sure.”
They sipped their beers and sat quietly for a moment. Fina fiddled with the coaster, and Cristian shifted in his seat.
“So how was your day?” he finally asked.
Fina took a big gulp and put the bottle down on the table. “How about we just pretend we’re having dinner same as we always have.”
He shook his head. “But it’s not the same.”
“That’s not what you said on the phone. You can’t have it both ways, Cristian.”
He studied the other patrons, and Fina could tell from the look on his face that he was annoyed.
She drained her beer and nodded to the waiter for another. “Let’s start over, shall we? My day was fine.”
“What are you working on?” Cristian asked after a moment, signaling his willingness to move on.
“Have you heard of Covenant Rising Church? They’re in Framingham.”
He tipped his head side to side. “Sounds familiar. Is that one of those born-again places?”
“Indeed it is. I’m working on something related to them.”
He grinned and took a chug of beer.
“What? Just say it,” Fina implored.
“Just that I would pay good money to see you at church.”
“Someone’s already paying me good money, but thanks for the offer. The client is an old girlfriend of Carl’s.”
“Really? There was someone before Elaine?”
“Yes, and she seems lovely, which begs the question: What was he thinking?”
“You wouldn’t be here if he made a different choice,” Cristian reminded her.
“I suppose. What are you working on, Detective?”
Cristian gave her the broad strokes of a murder investigation. It was nice to talk about work with someone who could relate. Cops and private investigators worked for different masters, but they were both trying to uncover the truth, or some version of it.
“My presence has been requested at a family dinner,” Fina told him once
her second beer had taken hold. “Rand and Elaine are both going to be there.”
“Rand’s back?” Cristian was one of the few people outside the family who knew the true nature of Rand’s crimes.
“Yup.”
“If Haley were willing to testify against him . . .” he trailed off.
“Not going to happen, Cristian.”
“Well, I’m sorry. No wonder you needed that beer. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m working on it. You know that whole ‘He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother’ thing?” Fina asked.
“Yeah?”
“Utter and complete bullshit.”
• • •
The disturbance registered in Fina’s body before her brain made sense of it. She froze on the threshold and tried to slow her breathing even as her heart raced. Her condo was generally a mess, but the sight that greeted her when she got home was definitely the work of an intruder.
Couch cushions were strewn across the living room, and the drawers of Nanny’s sideboard yawned open, table linens tumbling out. Shards from the glass side table glinted underfoot, and magazines and files had been tossed in the air and then had floated back down to paper the floor.
Fina pulled out her gun and gently put down her bag. She crept through the condo, checking each room, making sure that whoever had redecorated had left the premises.
Satisfied that she was alone, Fina slipped the dead bolt into place, returned a couple of cushions to the couch, and flopped down on them. She put down the gun and wiped her sleeve across the thin sheen of sweat that had emerged on her face.
Everyone assumed that if you were brave it meant you weren’t scared, but the two emotions weren’t mutually exclusive. Fina knew how to use a gun and how to handle herself in a dangerous situation, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be in a dangerous situation. She hated the idea of someone violating her personal space as much as the next person. What set her apart was that her fear quickly morphed into anger. She was pissed.
When the racing had subsided—in her mind and her heart—Fina retrieved her bag by the door and pulled out her phone. She held it in her hand for a moment, contemplating her options. Most people would call the cops, but calling them was an invitation into her business and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing, depending upon who was responsible for the burglary. If she called Cristian, he’d want her to report it, which would open that same can of worms. Scotty would freak out, and Carl wouldn’t care as long as it didn’t have a negative impact on his bottom line. She wanted to ask the concierge if he’d seen anything suspicious, but she didn’t want word to get out about the break-in. Some of Fina’s neighbors were already convinced she was bad for the neighborhood; she didn’t want to give them any more ammunition. Surely other people didn’t have these sorts of dilemmas.
Tucking the gun into the back of her waistband, she moved into the kitchen. Dishes and glasses were smashed on the floor, and pots and pans littered the counters. She didn’t even know the proper home for the kitchen items, having spent so little time there. The thieves had been considerate enough to leave some of her items in the fridge, including a cold diet soda. The hiss of the carbonation was a reassuring sound, and she took a long drink before returning to the couch.
Milloy answered on the second ring.
“I have a question for you,” Fina said.
“Shoot.”
“Do you happen to know where I keep the drainy thing, you know, the thing you put spaghetti in?”
There was a long pause.
“The colander?” he asked.
“Yes! That thing.”
“It’s in the lower cabinet to the left of the stove.”
“I knew you would have the answer.”
“You could have just looked, genius.”
“Which brings us to the problem: I couldn’t have just looked. Everything that was once in the cabinets is now out of the cabinets.”
“What happened?”
“Someone broke in and rearranged everything.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No, I’m good. I’ll just shove stuff back in.”
Milloy sighed. “I’m coming over.”
“You don’t have to. I’m good.”
“I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about how I’m going to find that drainy thing the next time I need it.”
“So selfish, Milloy. You only care about yourself.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Fina looked around Nanny’s living room and felt weary. Not because the place had been trashed, but because the suspect list was long: She had a knack for pissing people off. Fina was certain that the break-in was targeted and intended to send a specific message.
But it was hard to decode the message when there were so many possible senders.
• • •
Fina spent the next morning quizzing Stanley, the head concierge, and reviewing the security footage in an effort to identify her unwelcome visitor from the night before. She swore him to secrecy with the help of a generous tip. The tape offered a fuzzy image of a man in a Red Sox cap, which described half the men in Boston. Stanley hadn’t gotten any other reports of an intruder or disturbance in the building, confirming her suspicion that the attack was indeed targeted.
Next, she contacted Dennis Kozlowski, a PI who had been in charge of the security sweeps related to the NEU lawsuit. He promised to comb through the collection of hate mail and see if any one missive jumped out at him. Fina also made a halfhearted attempt to review her older case files for a potential perpetrator, but it was fruitless. She couldn’t differentiate between the people she had annoyed and those willing to do something about it.
Tired of waiting for a callback from Lucas Chellew or Nadine Quaynor, she tried their office numbers. She got a recording asking her to leave a message for Lucas, and the woman who answered the phone at the accounting firm where Nadine worked said she was out for the day. Feeling antsy and dissatisfied, Fina decided to drop in at Ludlow and Associates. Generally, she liked the freedom of working on her own, but politically, it made sense to occasionally remind people of her existence.
Scotty was in court, but she found Matthew with his feet propped on top of his desk, the soles of his handmade leather shoes barely showing wear.
“I need to talk to you,” she told him.
“You better make it quick. I’ve got trial prep in about two minutes.”
“Damn.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Someone trashed my condo last night,” Fina said, sinking into the chair in front of his desk, “and I’m frustrated by my case. I wanted to hear about your new paramour. You know, a success story, to boost my spirits.”
“Who trashed your condo?”
“No idea, which is exacerbating my frustration, as you can imagine.”
He leaned forward, dropping his feet to the floor. “How did your condo get trashed in a secure building?”
“Some resident probably let the guy in. You’d be surprised how lackadaisical people are about security; anything not to be rude and offend a potential criminal.”
“Spoken from experience, I’m guessing.”
“Indeed.”
“Do you want to come stay with me?” her brother asked.
“Nah, but thanks for the offer. I want to stick around in case he makes a return visit.”
“That sounds like a terrific idea.” He stood and grabbed his coat from a hanger on the back of the door.
“I’m full of them.”
“Any of them have to do with Rand?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Tell me later.” Matthew leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door.
Fina was left sitting in his office. Her brothers claimed to be
on board, yet she couldn’t help but feel she was on her own.
SIX
Fina was meeting Ceci and Chloe at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum to give them an update and used the drive over to contemplate her strategy. Ceci had insisted Chloe be part of the discussion, despite Fina’s misgivings. Generally, clients wanted to hear the results of an investigation in private, but Ceci seemed to think that hearing the report directly from Fina would have a greater impact on her daughter.
Fina had hoped to have concrete information to support a recommendation regarding Chloe’s donation, but instead, all she had to offer was suspicions, suppositions, and a bad feeling in her gut. Why should Chloe pay that concoction any mind?
The Café G was an airy space with two walls of windows. Streamlined red chairs flanked the tables, and red light-shades hung overhead. The overall feel was contemporary and spare, a sharp contrast to the rest of the museum.
Fina arrived first and perused the menu.
Mother and daughter arrived within moments of each other and greeted each other warmly.
“I hope we didn’t keep you waiting, Fina,” Ceci said, unfolding her napkin onto her lap.
“Nope. How are you two?”
“I’m well,” Ceci said, and looked to her daughter.
“I’m good,” Chloe said. “Busy with work and church. The usual stuff.”
At the mention of the church, Ceci’s shoulders tightened in her boucle jacket. Conversations about the church were doomed if Ceci had a physical reaction to the mere mention of Covenant Rising.
“What do you recommend?” Fina asked, scanning her menu. “I haven’t been here in ages.”
They debated the relative benefits of quiche versus chicken salad and steered clear of any serious conversation until they’d ordered.
“I wanted Chloe to join us,” Ceci said, “so she could hear the update directly from you, Fina.”
“I understand,” Fina said, looking at Chloe. She sat primly, her hands folded on her lap. “I can give you an overview of the investigation.”
Ceci nodded.
“Obviously, I spoke with Chloe, and I joined her for a service at Covenant Rising. Pastor Greg and I met yesterday, and I had my financial expert dig into the church’s finances. I haven’t been able to connect with Lucas and Nadine yet, the two committee members you suggested I contact.”
